


Set the Date

by Mask



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anonymous Sex, Bruises, Dress Up, Gangbang, High Maintenance, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Lingerie, M/M, Mentioned Kinks, Mentioned Side Characters, Mild Sexual Content, Mischief, Rough Sex, Scars, Self-Destruction, Sloppy Seconds, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8233663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mask/pseuds/Mask
Summary: Pariston was good at what he did: his job, dressing up, and having sex with strangers. However, when none of them can quite give him what he wants, the Universe delivers upon him a rough, familiar face.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Sam via email. Thank you so much for your eagerness!

Pariston felt fresh as a daisy when he woke up in the mid-afternoon. His windows were opened; sunlight streamed into his bedroom and shone down upon his bed. A bottle of Lanchester cranberry wine sat on the floor next to his bed. Pariston let out a long noise of content as he rolled onto his stomach. Soft Kukanyun cotton swept over his naked form as he turned over. Pariston crossed his arms under his head and stared at the wall with his eyes barely opened.

It was a nice day. He had a meeting that was scheduled for later in the day. Actually, he had a couple of meetings that needed his attention. He debated about whether or not he should even go as he basked in the Sun. He lifted up a leg–the heel of his foot knocked against his butt–as he continued down the rest of his mental list. Outside of his meetings, his schedule was open from now until his first meeting which took place downtown. The second one was some time after that, and it was meant to be a conference call. Pariston hummed. Seemed like he had enough free time to misbehave before he had to fall into his duties. He smiled to himself and then slid out of the bed. Strolling over to his closet stark naked, he browsed through his garments as he picked out what to wear today.

Now, now… What was he going to wear? He had to look business appropriate, but he needed to prepare for his own time out as well. He pulled out a couple of items that possibly caught his interest: a yellow blazer, a baby blue two piece with sequin appliqué bordering the blazer and hemming the sleeves. They were tempting… but they didn't quite match the mood he was in. Pariston took a step back and brought a hand to his chin as he thought this all over.

Maybe it would be best if he started with the undergarments and worked his way up… He snapped his fingers, and a winsome smile brightened his features. Oh yes! That would be a _much_ better idea.

Pariston walked over to his dresser and pulled the second drawer open, admiring the various colours of underwear and lingerie within. He ran his hands over the items fondly. He was still incapable of making a decision, and so he closed his eyes, brought both his hands, and blindly picked up whatever was under his hold. He opened his eyes and stared at the lovely outfit he had chosen. His hands came down upon a wine red strapless torsolette with sheer paneling along the sides. He twisted the garment this way and that before reaching back into the drawer to grab underwear. The matching panties were bikini cut and had lace overlay along the sides. Embroidered lace would run along Pariston's backside with a triangular cut of cotton splitting the lace halves.

_This was perfect. Perfect!_ he thought to himself. When he lifted the torsolette, he had the added pleasure of seeing that the garment also had hooks for garters. Shame. He didn't have any that hadn't been snapped in half or were otherwise in a wonky state.  He needed to replace them and toss out the old ones. He didn't care for the wild memories they held or how much they originally cost. They were worthless to him now, and he wasn't one to be held back by trash.

Though, that brought up an interesting thought in his head...

Just as he was about to move on to the next stage of his plan, his phone began vibrating on his dresser. He moved over to check the text message, tipping his head to read along the tilted device.

_Meeting moved to 9:30. Client cancelled but put us in touch with his viceroy. Do NOT be late to this meeting; it will NOT be audio recorded!_

Pariston's lips curled up in a devilish smile.  Oooh, the meeting had been pushed back? Seem ed like everything was going to go his way. He grabbed his phone to navigate to his music, putting on some tunes as he dressed in his lingerie.  His socks were lightweight and ankle high, adding a softness to the entire look. Feeling inspired, he waltzed right over to his closer. He pulled out khakis with a cream coloured blazer with bright orange lining on the inside. The accent trims on the sleeves and outlining the jacket were also bright orange.  His shirt was white, crisp, and perhaps the only plain thing on him.  Pariston had matching pocket squares  that he could tuck into his left breast pocket . He slid on a 4'000 Jenny silver watch,  fluffed his hair in the mirror, and put on an obnoxious diagonally striped tie that brought his whole outfit together.

There was a thrill in looking so normal despite what he was wearing underneath. Well, normal was an extremely loose term, but this was rather tame for Pariston Hill. He gave the mirror a charming smile  and went to his dresser to turn off his music and grab his secondary phone from the drawer. He had a number of missed messages and calls, but the phone was usually on silent. Anyone who contacted him on this device was… disposable, so to say. Item in hand, he  headed to his foyer to slip on his shoes.  Pariston examined his contacts as he placed his feet into polished leather shoes.  He was going to spend time with the first person to catch his interest…!

And that was no one. Of course. He wasn't even surprised. Pariston laughed to himself as he tucked his phone into the inside pocket of his blazer. Well, no matter. He would have his fun one way or another. The day was still young, and there was no point in stressing over such insignificant details!

  
\--- --- --- ---  
  


Pariston checked his watch as the cab took him further downtown. He had asked for the scenic route and tolled up a fair amount of Jenny for his request. His first meeting wasn't until six, which was another three hours away. Pariston lowered his hand to his lap, smiling to himself. He had more than enough room to get into some trouble. Now it was only a matter of where he would go. It was still pretty early in the day too, so he would just have to pick a starting point and go from there.

“Take a left at this street.” He gave an idle flick of his hand. The driver steered into a narrow one way street, glancing up at Pariston in the rear view mirror. The buildings on this road were much closer together. Some of the walls facing the street were covered in graffiti. The curbside grass was ingrown; trash was piled up in a tight alleyway, and Pariston smiled.

He was right where he needed to be.

Granted, he was a bit early to the party, but he had time to kill and liked to build momentum. He was sure that he could find something fun to do for a little while, and if he didn't, he could find some inspiration on how to spend tonight.

The cab pulled up to the warped curb of a mechanic's shop. Pariston stared up at the building before giving a shrug. He paid his fare and stepped out of the cab, smoothing his hands over his blazer as he beheld the weather-beaten sign outside of the building. “RipRide drinks and lounge”. Ah, so it was a mechanic shop turned into a bar? Sounded good to him.

At the front of the bar, he headed up a small flight of stairs and opened the metal door. The door handle was burning hot under Pariston's fingers from being in the Sun, and the inside had an oppressive humidity that smacked flush against Pariston when he walked in. There weren't any windows in the building, save one that had been boarded up just near where the bar was. The ceiling was a scene all on its own. Holes allowed natural light in, and three motorcycle frames hung upside down with pendant lights swinging between them. Flecks of paint and rust sprinkled down with each quiet swing. There was music playing from somewhere, but it was quiet and insignificant.

Upon hearing the door open, a few people glanced in Pariston's direction, but soon, everyone was staring at the smiling blond. Pariston shivered under the attention and made his way to the bar. As he approached, a brunet turned around, spreading his legs subtly as he leaned back against the counter. A mug was placed down in front of Pariston before he could order, and the brunet stared at him with raised brows. It was a challenge – a silent command even. Pariston licked his lips and grasped hold of the mug. The inner contents were murky; the alcohol smelled sweet, but there was a bitter taste of _something_ just underneath. It made him want to gag as he chugged the rest of the drink, but he slammed down the mug victorious. The male at his right smiled and sat up. He walked behind Pariston, running his hands over the blond's sides.

“Drink piss often?” he muttered in Pariston's ear.

He reached over and knocked on the counter. Another drink was made for him quickly, and Pariston sighed as lips trailed along the shell of his ear.

“I can't say that it's usually in my diet,” Pariston joked.

The stranger grabbed the mug and tugged at Pariston's hip with his other hand. The two walked away from the bar and  around to the left.  There was a hard shadow over a few of the booths  lining the wall . The  wall  lights didn't work. One sputtered pathetically,  broadcasting its poor condition. The biker placed his beer on the wall counter; Pariston leaned against the back of a booth. The torn leather prodded at his back. Pariston smiled as the nameless male stepped into his space, groping at him wantonly. 

There were no questions, no introductions. Pariston's trousers were undone and yawned down hard over his legs. The biker's speed was enough to leave Pariston impressed. He slid his hands under the male's shirt and felt up the muscle underneath.

“No need to be gentle,” Pariston encouraged. “I can take a beating.”

The male smirked. He was honestly handsome and rugged. He was too good for Pariston's current tastes and needs.  He was glad though when the male spun him around and forced down his pants and underwear. But, the biker didn't comment on the tastefully chosen underwear. He didn't pause or take a moment to admire.  The man didn't even have the decency to make a dirty comment about it!  No fun– no fun at all.

The only thrill Pariston got out of any of this was the scant amount  of lube the man used to coat his cock.  The re was  with  _just_ enough lube to make the passage easy, but  obviously, he was a selfish lover. Pariston liked that , honestly,  in encounters like this .  He  wouldn't have had it any other way. There was no kissing or chit chat. Just hard, tight holds and controlled moans from the both of them.

P ariston's hips were hammered forward against the booth, and the dull pain of each contact only made him want more.  He was fucked once bent over the booth and then again facing his partner with his legs being held. Pariston leaned his head back, listening to the unamused din of conversation  and watching the world upside-down . No one seemed to care what was happening in the shadows of the renovated shop. Pariston gave a breathless laugh, even as his lower back rubbed unpleasantly against the wooden  edge of the booth. 

When he came, his lingerie was spared any of his own spunk. The man wrapped a hand around his tip, catching the essence with ease. Pariston's legs were lowered down, and the man rubbed his sullied palm against the lip of his mug. Semen trailed into the liquor, and Pariston smiled, nose crinkling with the motion.

“Disgusting,” he said as he watched the man take a drink.

“It's a part of my diet,” the man retorted with a smirk, watching as Pariston straightened himself up.

Paiston chuckled and smoothed his hands over his partially opened blazer. Who was he to judge? Outside of the little surprise he had with his  initial drink, the actual beverage wasn't half bad.  He headed to the bar to order something for himself, and even got some of the other patrons a round. The more they liked him, the more likely they were to do as he pleased, after all.

He passed an hour or so nursing one drink and then another. His partner from before left in the meantime, but he passed word about Pariston along to his friends. Unaware of this, Pariston  was about to take a drink from his mug , but a large hand took the cup from him. Smiling lips parted to allow the drink in, and broad bodies surrounded the lithe blond. Pariston's table mates stood from the table, laughing to themselves as they carried on their conversation elsewhere. They could guess what was about to happen, and even if  t hey were wrong, they didn't want to get involved.

Another forty minutes passed, and Pariston felt he had his fill. He was happy to walk out of the bar with a limp. His ass were sore; his pants and panties were sticking to his skin. Honestly, he felt rather successful with his little adventure.  Considering how much he liked his lingerie, he would even go the extra mile to removing the stains. As he was leaving, he bumped into someone, a familiar face, and Pariston could only laugh at how good his luck was.

“Ging!” he greeted loudly, throwing open his arms for the other male.

Ging took a step back and stared at Pariston, grimacing as though the blond was the last person he wanted to see. That was probably true, but Pariston wasn't to be deterred. He placed his hands on Ging's shoulders.

“How about a drink on me?”

“… What do you want, Pariston?”

“To catch up. I only have–” Pariston flicked his arm and stared at his watch. “Well, I have a decent amount of time to dedicate to canoodling, and I'd rather spend time talking with you.”

The invitation gave Ging pause. He didn't look like he believed Pariston _wanted_ to spend time with him either. He narrowed his eyes, lifted a brow, and repeated himself, “What do you want?”

“Like I said, to catch up. I'd prefer not to do it here.” Pariston grinned and said, “The drinks taste like piss.”

Ging stared flatly at the blond, not deigning Pariston with an immediate response. If Pariston promised booze, Ging usually got the best bang for his annoyance. Pariston waited as the shorter male debated his options.

“What d'ya got?” Ging asked, shifting his weight slightly.

“A room downtown with a mini-fridge that hasn't been touched.” A lie. Pariston didn't have anything of the sort, but it's not as if it would be hard for him to acquire. “And I was _just_ about to call a cab to relax before going to my meeting.”

Ging sighed hard. Pariston knew that Ging hated indulging him, but there was always some ulterior reasoning for Ging accepting his offers. So when the shorter man motioned his hand out to the curb, Pariston broke into a grin and pulled out his cell phone. He called for a cab, and afterward, he immediately began his reservations at a hotel downtown. He would have picked the cheapest motel, but they were all booked for the weekend. Because of that, he had to fall to his usual tastes, but it wouldn't hurt to treat his longest 'fuck buddy' to something nice every once in a while. Pariston huffed out a laugh and tucked his phone into his inner pocket right as the cab pulled up. As if Ging was aware of what he had in store…

The cab ride was silent, and during that time, Pariston got a confirmation about his room. Along with the current portable bar had been delivered to his room and would be waiting for him by the mini-fridge.

“Hope you're in the mood for some serious drinking, Ging,” Pariston said.

Ging huffed and smiled when he spoke. “When I'm with you Pariston, how could I not be?”

Pariston's empty brown eyes didn't reflect any mirth unlike his smile and laugh. “Aren't you a card?” he muttered to himself, turning his gaze out towards the road.

His first step of his new plan was to get Ging sloppy drunk. It wouldn't be too hard. The hotel they were headed to had a pretty satisfying inventory when it came to food and alcohol. Pariston figured he could keep Ging around at least for a few hours based on that alone.

The cab pulled up. The two Zodiac members soon hopped out and entered past sliding doors into the hallway. Ging stuck his hands into his pockets and kept his focus straight ahead. Pariston glanced down to his companion and laughed. Ging looked out of place, and it wasn't _just_ because of what he wore. Ging wasn't wearing his usual rags, but he still had a long scarf that wrapped around his neck several times. His black hair was wild and free without the turban to keep it tamed. He had a short sleeve off white shirt; the sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders; and the hem of the shirt was completely frayed. He wore cargo shorts that fell to his knees and heavy duty boots that were beaten and well-worn.

He looked out of place because he was the polar opposite of Pariston. His clothes had no theme! No glitz! No glam! Despite how boring Ging was to look at, Pariston always found himself drawn to the other man. It was nothing out of romance, god no. The fact that they were polar opposites most of the time was what made them work so well other times. Times like this, Pariston hoped as they entered into the elevator together. He drew back his sleeve and peered down at his silver watch to check the time. He still had the best part of an hour to get this party started. Ah, it was crunch time. The idea of being under time constraints made him shudder bodily. It was almost as if the world was daring him to see how much trouble he could get into in a specific amount of time.

Maybe he should do that one day.

The elevator pinged open, and the two men stepped out of it. Pariston checked his phone for his room number and was delighted to find a small matte black bag hanging from the door handle. He pulled out what was within; it was the keycard for his hotel room. He let out a pleased hum as he slotted the card inside and opened the door.

“Make yourself at home,” Pariston greeted with all of his manufactured warmth.

Ging was already a few steps ahead of him. The man thunked his way over towards the bar rack and examined the booze before muttering something under his breath. “Monochromatic,” Pariston heard, and when he turned his head, he saw that the drinks were in fact organised in monochromatic order. Such a useless little detail. He adored the meticulousness of their vanity.

Pariston toed off his shoes at the door and used a foot to keep them orderly next to one another. He stepped further into the room and adjusted his tie, waiting for Ging to make the next move. Undoubtedly he knew; he knew how this tango would go. He wasn't disappointed when Ging sauntered over with a half filled glass of hard liquor. A hand ran up Pariston's chest, and Ging's brows rose slightly. Pariston's eyes darkened as he watched Ging's expression change. The man took a sip of his drink; with his free hand, he flicked his index finger upward.

Pariston pulled off his blazer and made a nice show of it. He tossed it over to an arm chair posted up near the windows. His shirt came next. He turned slowly as Ging went to sit on the edge of the bed and revealed the torsolette underneath. Ging's expression tightened. He looked conflicted about whether or not he should enjoy it, and it made Pariston's heart beat wildly. Next came the socks; Pariston's khakis were undone, and that's when he got the expression he desired. Ging's lip curled as he saw the dried cum on Pariston's thigh as the blond lifted his legs to kick away the pants.

His expression hadn't cooled a bit when Pariston sauntered closer. Pariston watched as Ging took in his bruises from his day's adventures. Strangely, it was the cuts on his inner thigh that Ging touched over. The Boar let out a little noise and took a sip with one hand. The tenderness of the touch made Pariston's skin crawl despite the apathy with which Ging touched him. To dispose of his upset, he crawled into Ging's lap and coyly took the glass Ging was drinking out of.

“Wasn't done with that,” Ging grunted.

“It's important to share,” Pariston said, knocking back the drink and ignoring the glass that hit against his upper lip.

Ging rolled his eyes but didn't object. His hands went to Pariston's ass, fingers playing under the lace trim of the panties. He made another face.

“Messy bastard, aren't you?”

“Come now, Ging. I thought you liked things dirty.”

Ging grunted and slotted a finger inside of Pariston. The blond was still warm and wet with someone else's release. He drew his finger back with a groan. Despite his expressed disgust, his cock was growing hard under Pariston. The blond hummed and began rocking himself down against Ging.

“Play with me, Ging,” Pariston goaded, shoving the shorter male down. “You know you want to.”

“What are you a child?” Ging chided.

The blond smiled and swayed his hips as Ging's hands slid up his body. “Does that make you my Daddy then?”

He could barely relish the annoyance on Ging's face when a hand slapped down over his ass. The sting was sharp against his sore ass. Another spank hit, and then another. Pariston's vision spotted as Ging spanked him mercilessly, ignoring the winces of pain on the blond's face. Pariston was soon shoved onto his stomach. The glass fell to the floor; ice spilled out of it. Ging stood behind the taller male and thrust his fingers into Pariston's worked hole.

Pariston felt used, defiled. The sound of Ging's fingers thrusting into him made Pariston moan wantonly. Perhaps the sound was louder than was necessary, but Ging didn't complain. If anything, he pointed it out and mocked Pariston's enjoyment. This was what Pariston craved. This was the height of his need, and being with someone who could properly humiliate him and chastise him for his gross desires made Pariston tighten around his partner's fingers. Ging quickly wrapped his free hand around Pariston's cock, gripping the base as he slid his fingers out of the blond.

“Not yet,” Ging growled. “You'd think a needy fuck like you would have more stamina.”

Pariston laughed breathlessly as he slid from the bed and turned on his knees to face Ging. “Stamina can be defined in many aspects, Ging. Don't be so judgmental.”

He leaned into Ging's body and began tugging down the other's trousers. Pariston didn't even glimpse at his watch as the carnal prize was unveiled in front of his eyes. Maybe he would be a little late. That was already. Today was his day, after all. He was allowed to take some liberties.


End file.
